


Dans un autre monde

by LadyCumhangAbhainn



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCumhangAbhainn/pseuds/LadyCumhangAbhainn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of the Battle of Culloden, Jamie Fraser made the difficult decision of sending his beloved wife, daughter and unborn child through the stones to the 20th century. An AU where Faith lives and it change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First Outlander fic, so please be kind ;)

The first thing I noticed as I finally regained consciousness was the warmth of the sun on my skin. The weather had been quite poor when we had reached the abandoned cottage at the bottom of Craig na Dun the previous evening... No, the weather had been quite poor when we had reached the cottage 200 years ago. 200 years ago... Two centuries now separated me from my husband, my Jamie. It wasn’t the first time we had been separated since we had wed, there had been the ordeal at Wentworth and his time at the Bastille when we nearly lost Faith, but this time I knew for sure he was gone. My husband was dead. He went back and died on the moors of Culloden after making sure we were safe, back in my own time. Such a selfless act from such an honourable man... I loved him and hated him at the same time. Why couldn’t he be selfish for once? Why had he made me promise to come back to my own time?

“Mama?”

Faith was sitting on the ground, tucked in a Fraser’s plaid, playing with Sawny. Seeing the wooden snake brought back the memory of Jamie’s teary goodbye to our daughter. It had all started the night Dougal had died, the night Jamie had killed him to protect me... Murtagh’s disappearance should have raised my suspicions, but everything was going so fast... Before I could even register anything, Jamie had brought me to the cottage where we had first met and Murtagh had brought our daughter from Lallybroch. That’s when I finally put all the pieces together. Jamie was sending us back to my time, for my sake, for Faith’s sake and for our unborn child. The news of my newfound pregnancy was bittersweet. I should have been ecstatic, but how could I be when my husband was sending us away and planning to die?

“Mama sad?”

I forced a smile before hugging my small daughter, inhaling her sweet scent. The plaid had been Jamie’s and it still smelled like him.

“Come, darling. We have a long walk ahead of us.”

We made quite the duo, walking along the road to Inverness. Faith kept herself occupied by singing French comptines that Fergus taught her. Fergus... My brave little French boy... A wave of guilt invaded me at the thought that he would be all alone...

“Mama, we see Da and Fewgus?”

I couldn’t lie to my daughter and yet I couldn’t tell her the truth either. It would already be hard enough to explain to her about the modern era we were now in, how could I tell her she would never see them again?  
“Mama, look! Carriage with no horsy!”

The car slowed down next to us. The man behind the wheel looked at us, probably completely baffled by our appearances.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

“I... Yes... No... I’m... Could you tell me what year it is?”

He frowned, looking at me from head to toe. “What year, Ma’am?”

I nodded. I had been gone nearly three years, but didn’t know if time ran parallel on each side of the stones. If what Geillis had told me was true, she had come through the stones from 1968 and had clearly arrived to the 18th century earlier than me.

“Well it is 1948, Ma’am. Are you sure you are alright?”

“1948... Tell me, who won the battle?”

“The battle, Ma’am? Which battle?”

“The battle of Culloden? Which side won the battle?”

“The British, of course...”

Then they were all gone... Murtagh, Rupert, Angus, Willie... Jamie...

“My name is Claire Fr... Claire Randall.”

The name felt wrong against my tongue, foreign. For three years I had forgo that name, first by using my maiden name and then by embracing my new husband’s. Who was Claire Randall? To me she was a stranger or at least a former acquaintance. Could I still be Claire Randall after all I’d been through? Could I go back to bearing the same name as the man who had tortured and nearly destroyed my husband’s soul?

“Could you possibly drive us to the hospital in Inverness? My daughter and I need to be seen by a physician and...”

“Of course, Ma’am.”

The ride to town was spent in relative silence, albeit Faith’s sobbing at the awful sound the car was making. To be completely honest the sound irritated me as well and it got even worse once we reached the center of Inverness. I already missed the peace and quiet of pre-Industrial Revolution Scotland.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Faith arrives at the Royal Northen Infirmary in Inverness

To say that the doctors and nursing staff of the Royal Northern Infirmary were shocked when Faith and I came in would be an understatement. Our appearances alone caused quite the circus. And as soon as I told them my name they started whispering among themselves. 

“Should we call...”

“... she disappeared three years...”

“... said she ran away with her lover...”

“... look at the way she’s dressed...”

“... been gone three years and that bairn cannae look any older than two...”

“All of ye out!” finally said a matronly looking nurse, who I would later learn was indeed the head nurse. “Come my lamb, let’s get ye and the wee bairn comfortable before the doctor examine the both of ye.”

She showed us to a large examination room where I was instructed to get undress and wait for the doctor to come and examine us. I removed each clothing items except my shift, carefully setting them up on a nearby chair. Faith was sitting on the bed, looking a little fearful.

“Don’t be scared, darling. Mama is here.”

“We see Da now?”

I fought the tears threatening to fall from my eyes. My poor darling little girl... Before I could answer her heartbreaking question, the door opened on a stern looking gentleman.

“Mrs Randall? I’m Doctor Beaton...”

The irony of his last name brought an unconscious smile to my lips. The examination was after all a formality, I could have easily told the physician what was ailing me. I was two months pregnant and severely malnourished and underweight. But the examination brought me answers to questions that had been plaguing me ever since Jamie’s announcement of my new pregnancy. My medical knowledge was advanced enough to know that what I had suffered at Faith’s birth was placental abruption. Could such a thing happen again? If so, what were the chances of survival for me and my baby? I knew that with modern medicine such a condition could be diagnosed earlier, but could my body go through such a traumatic event again? Could my psyche go through the ordeal again? Our survival had been miraculous, could such a miracle happen again?

“There’s always a risk, but as long as ye follow doctor’s orders...”

He then proceeded with his examination of Faith. My darling little girl proved to be quite brave, only hiccupping a sobs once in a while as the physician poked and probed her.

“Ye got yourself a healthy wee lassie, Mrs Randall... A little on the small side for her age...”

“She was born premature” I explained, defensively. 

I knew Faith was small for her age, she actually looked younger than little Kitty who was several months her junior. As tiny as she was, my daughter was also fierce. She, after all, had Fraser’s blood running through her veins. She had proved it by surviving and thriving against all odds.

“Premature, ye say? Well that explains it, then. Has she received her inoculations?”

Her inoculations? I hadn’t thought of that... Her immune system was already a little weak, add the fact that she had only been in contact with 18th Century germs and virus...

“By yer expression I’ll wage she hasn’t. We’ll take care of that later on. In the meantime, why don’t ye rest. The next few days should bring enough excitement... I ken that some constables are very eager to meet with ye.”

Excitement... I had had enough to last one lifetime, if not two. As for those constables, what could I possibly told them? That I travelled through time not once, but twice? They would intern me at Bedlam as soon as the words were out of my mouth! 

“Thank you, Doctor Beaton.”

As he was getting ready to leave the room, the door opened on the head nurse carrying a bundle of clothes.

“I see that ye are done with yer examination, Doctor. Come my lamb, I brought some clothes for ye and the bairn. Then ye and the wee thing will nap. Ye look as if ye’ll drop dead from exhaustion.”

“Thank you, nurse... Could you... Would it be too much to ask you to ring someone for me, please?”

“Yer husband, Mr Randall?” 

My husband... I didn’t think I could face Frank yet. Jesus H. Rooselvelt Christ, could I ever face him again without getting flashes from Black Jack? I simply shook my head.

“Someone in Inverness, perhaps?”

I nodded. “Do you know Reverend Reginald Wakefield?”

“Reverend Wakefield, ye say? Of course I ken the good Reverend. My dear friend, Fiona Graham, work for him as a housekeeper. Would you happen to ken her too?”

Mrs Graham! I was brought back to the morning of Samhain before I went through the Stones and the ritual Frank and I had spied upon. If there was one person I could tell my story to and wouldn’t judge me or think me crazy it would be Mrs Graham. I just hoped she would still be in the good Reverend’s employ.

“Yes, I do know Mrs Graham... She once read my palm... Could you please ring her? Tell her Claire is back.”

TBC


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While staying at the Royal Northen Infirmary, Claire and Faith receive their first visitors.

They kept us at the Infirmary five days. The afternoon of the first days saw our first visitors, two constables from the Inverness Police. Luckily they came just before tea time, while Faith was still napping. For nearly two hours they questioned me about what had happened to me, where I had been and who did Faith belonged to. I couldn’t possibly tell them I had traveled through the stones of Craig na Dun, I couldn’t risk being committed to the psychiatric ward.

  
“Mrs Randall, do ye realize the gravity of the situation? Do ye ken how many people help searching for ye? Dinnae ye have anything to tell us?”

“I’m back, that’s all I can tell you. Shouldn’t that fact alone matter more than my whereabouts for the last three years?”

They both sighed.

“I dinnae think we’ll be able to get anything out of her...”

“Right... Well, we’ll leave ye, Mrs Randall.”

I simply nodded before turning my attention back to Faith who was slowly waking up. They hadn’t closed the door yet and I caught a glimpse of their conversation, not that they were whispering or anything.

“Guess ye’ll owe Detective Collins a pound, mate.”

“I already knew I’d lose the moment I met her husband, ye ken. He was so desperate to think she hadn’t run off my some bloke... If only he had kent.”

“He’ll have quite the surprise when he’ll see her and that bairn of hers...”

Our second visitor came after dinner. Faith and I had just finished eating our meal, my daughter lamenting the lack of bannock on the menu.

“Mama! Me want bannock!”

“I’m sorry darling, maybe we’ll have some tomorrow...”

“Me want da!” she finally wailed.

“I know, darling... I want him too...”

I took her in my arms and rocked her, hoping to soothe her sorrow. I softly sang that long ago song my mother used to sing to me, the same one I sang to her the first time I held her when Mother Hildegarde brought her to me. She had finally stopped crying and was drifting to sleep when someone knocked on the door before opening it slowly.

“Mrs Randall? Claire?”

I smiled, wiping a lone tear from the corner of my eyes and welcomed my visitor.

“Mrs Graham! Come in...”

Reverend Wakefield’s housekeeper hadn’t changed in three years. She still had this warm smile that always reached her eyes. I could tell she was surprised at the view of Faith sleeping in my arms as she dropped a suitcase – my old suitcase, the one I had brought with me on that fated second honeymoon – and sat in the chair at my bedside.

“My dear... I coudnae believe it when Aileen told me ye were here at the Infirmary...”

“I can hardly believe it myself, Mrs Graham... I... Thank you for agreeing to come here. I’m sure you have a lot...”

“No need to thank me, my dear. I have to say that I was shocked when Aileen said ye wanted to see me. I would have thought ye would have asked for yer husband. But I can see that under the circumstances...”

I bit my lip, looking down at my sleeping child.

“The reason why I asked to see you, Mrs Graham, is because I think you are the only person that I can talk to about what happened to me without thinking I’m crazy or delusional. That morning when I disappeared, Frank and I went to Craig na Dun and saw you and your druid friends...”

And then I told her everything. How I had gone back to the standing stones later that day, how I had heard the stones and, upon touching the split one, was transported to 1743. I told her everything, from being nearly raped by a redcoat and then rescued by a band of Highlanders, being held at Castle Leoch as a guest of Clan MacKenzie, meeting, marrying and falling in love with Jamie, escaping to France and failing to prevent the Jacobites Rising, giving birth to Faith and nearly losing my own life, going back to Scotland and participating in the doomed Rising before being sent back to the 20th Century by my husband for my child and my safety. It was an unbelievable tale. Honestly if I was in Mrs Graham’s shoes I would think myself completely crazy.

“That’s quite a tale...”

She didn’t believe me! I felt desperate tears stinging my eyes. If Mrs Graham couldn’t believe me then who would?

“You don’t believe me... You think me crazy...”

She surprised me by smiling, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.

“Of course ye are nae crazy, my dear! And I do believe ye.”

Those 5 words acted as a broken dam and the tears I was fighting were let loose. I felt the same relief as when I had told Jamie after the witch trial at Cranesmuir and he too said he believed me.

“Thank you... for believing me.”

“No need to thank me, my dear. I had heard the stories of people travelling through the stones, fairies stories and all. I’ll admit I even told the Reverend and yer husb... I mean Professor Randall about the possibility that ye might have done so. Of course they didnae believe me, said it was all old wives’ tales. But I knew I was right. I remembered reading yer palm and seeing the contradictions... I guess my predictions were right, ye went on a journey, but stay put at the same time, right dear?”  
I nodded through my tears.

“Now... How about ye tell me about that wee lassie of yers? She looks exactly like ye...”

I let out a laugh. “She’s her father’s daughter through and through! She might have my colouring now, but would you believe it if I told you she was born with a shocking head of red hair? And you might not be able to see it now as she is sleeping, but she has Jamie’s eyes and his mischievousness... It’s going to be so hard. She misses him already, which makes me miss him even more.”

“I’m nae saying it will completely ease the pain ye are feeling right now, but yer wee lass will with time act as a balm to that pain.”

She stayed for another hour. We talked about everything and anything, but never of Frank. In fact the only time we really talked about him was when she told me about telling him and Reverend Wakefield about her suspicions regarding what had happened to me. Honestly I was in no hurry to talk about or see my first husband. But it seems like I didn’t have quite the choice in that matter.

The next day one of the nurse offered to take Faith to the garden to allow her to burn up some energy. I loved my daughter, but the last couple of months spent following the Jacobite army had taken a toll on me. And so while my overactive 18 months old ran around the garden, I took the opportunity to nap. Unfortunately the outside world seemed no to want to allow me to rest. The nurse had opened the window before leaving with Faith. I had forgotten how busy and loud modern times were. I was debating whether to get up and close it myself when the door opened.

“Could you please close the window? I can barely hear myself think...”

“Claire?”

I froze... That voice... That voice had given me nightmares... I looked up, expecting to see the redcoat Captain, but was met by the worried sight of Frank.

“Frank...”

“You’re... You’re back!”

What could I possibly tell him? Yes, I was back, but nothing could ever go back to the way it was before... But he looked so... happy? Glad? No, the correct word was relieved.

“Yes, I’m back...”

“And I’m so gl...”

Before he could continue the door slammed and Faith came running toward the bed.

“Mama! Me saw a doggy!”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffy...


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Claire's reunion doesn't go as well as he had planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been ask to provide a timeline for the story. So here it is. I know it differs from the book timeline as well as the series timeline, but I hope you won't hold it against me ;)
> 
> October 31st 1945: Claire Beauchamps-Randall travelled through time to 1743  
> November 1743: Clan MacKenzie’s Gathering  
> December 1743-January 1744: The Clan MacKenzie’s rent party  
> Early January 1744: Claire Beauchamps and James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser are wed  
> February 1744: Cranesmuir witch trial  
> March 1744: Faith’s conception at Lallybroch  
> April 1744: Wentworth prison ordeal  
> May 1744: Recovery at the Abbey and departure for France  
> Early October 1744: Duel + Faith’s birth  
> November-December 1744: Jamie is released from the Bastille and return to Scotland  
> Late summer 1745: The letter from Charles Stuart arrives at Lallybroch  
> September 21st 1745: The Battle of Prestonpans  
> February 1746: Brianna’s conception  
> April 15th 1746: Jamie send Claire and Faith back to the 20th Century

**_Previously_ **

_“Frank...”_

_“You’re... You’re back!”_

_What could I possibly tell him? Yes, I was back, but nothing could ever go back to the way it was before... But he looked so... happy? Glad? No, the correct word was relieved._

_“Yes, I’m back...”_

_“And I’m so gl...”_

_Before he could continue the door slammed and Faith came running toward the bed._

_“Mama! Me saw a doggy!”_

The world stopped turning. Or at least it seemed like it had stopped turning for me. Faith kept baby babbling about the dog she saw in the garden, but it was as if she was miles away. My whole attention was focused on Frank... Frank who looked positively shocked and confused.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am” said a breathless young nurse, coming through the door. “The wee lass and I were heading to the kitchen, but she ran away...”

“There’s no need to be sorry, Nurse Monroe. This little one is quite stubborn when she wants.”

The nurse looked at Frank, then at me. “Would ye like me to take her so ye...”

“Yes, please. Go with Nurse Monroe to the kitchen, darling. You might be able to get bannock for a snack...”

“Bannock? Me want bannock, mama!”

“Then off you go, darling. But first, give mama a kiss...”

She happily obliged before running out of the room. A ghost of a smile appeared on my lips before a cough brought me back to the reality of the moment. Frank was still standing at the foot of the bed, frowning.

“Is that... Is she... She’s...”

“Her name is Faith...”

“She looks just like you! Darling... You have made me oh so happy!”

I took a deep breath before inevitably breaking his heart.

“She’s turning two in October, Frank... She was born in October, almost a year after I... after I disappeared.”

He frowned, realization finally hitting him.

“She’s not yours, Frank. It would probably make thing easier if she was, but the truth is you are not her father.”

For a moment I saw a shadow of his ancestor in his features. For even if Jonathan Wolverton Randall wasn’t his direct ancestor, there was this uncanny resemblance and for a moment I feared his reaction. He crossed the several feet separating us and grabbed me by the arms, not hard enough to leave marks, but enough to make me cower a bit.

“Why are you saying that, Claire? Why are you lying...”

“I’m not lying, Frank... Why would I be lying about such a thing if it made things even more complicated?”

“Then who’s her father?! And where have you been these past three years? Answer me!”

I couldn’t fight the tears anymore.

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me!”

“Tell me anyway!”

I closed my eyes, tried to remind myself that this man wasn’t Black Jack Randall, that this man was my once sweet husband, that his anger and rage in a way were expected. That any man whose wife came back from a 3 years disappearance with an eighteen months old child would react this way...

“Her father’s name is James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.”

“Fraser? A Scot, then?”

I nodded.

“Who is he? How did you meet? Where is he now?”

I thought carefully about what I would tell him next. It was one thing to give him Jamie’s name, but to tell him exactly what had happened to me? Mrs Graham had told me that she had tried to tell him and the Reverend about the possibility of me having traveled through the Stones only to be told off for saying such apparent nonsense. I decided to tell him the truth, but a certain version of the truth.

“He was a Scottish soldier, who fought in France. I met him when I patched him up, a dislocated shoulder and then a bullet wound. We fell in love...”

Yes, to a certain degree that was the truth. Jamie had fought in France as a mercenary 200 years ago and I did patch him up upon our first meeting. I looked in Frank’s eyes and only saw disgust.

“And where is that bastard now? That fucking Scot that stole my wife?”

“He didn’t steal me, Frank! Jamie was the most honourable man I’ve ever met...”

“Honourable?! Is it honourable to steal someone else’s wife, to fuck her and get her pregnant? If he was so honourable he wouldn’t have touched a married woman in the first place! So when I suggested that we come here after the war... Were you planning on running away with him? Was that your plan all along? Get a ride and get rid of me?”

“No! No... I never planned on leaving you deliberately... Jamie and I... it just happened.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where’s the bastard? Did he got tired of you and the child? Is that it? He got bored with you and sent you back to your poor husband? Tell me so I can go and kill him myself!”

“You can’t kill a dead man, Frank. My Jamie is gone... He’s dead...”

Saying the words out loud hurt more than I expected. I had thought them a lot in the last couple of days, but I never said them out loud...

“And what did you thought? That now that your lover was out of the way you could go back to your husband with your bastard child? That I’ll turn the page on the last three years as if nothing had happened? That I would happily agree to raise your bastard?”

“Stop calling my daughter that! She’s not a bastard... And no, I never expected you to take me back, to raise my daughter... You made it quite clear after the war that you would never be able to love or raise a child that wasn’t of your blood.”

“You’re damn bloody right I won’t! No man would take a child and raise it and love it without sharing the same blood. Even your Scottish bastard wouldn’t have taken a child who wasn’t his.”

“He did...” I whispered.

“What?”

“Jamie and I took in a young French orphan... We loved him as if he was our own son. We saw no difference between him and Faith... They were both our children...”

He let out a snort. “Then your Jamie truly was the King of men, right?”

“Yes... He was...”

He looked at me as if to see something that clearly wasn’t there anymore... The shadow of the ghost of the woman I had been before...

“What happened to us, Claire? Was it the war? The six years of separation? Tell me!”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “We had so little time together before the war, Frank. We were still getting to know each other, truly know each other, when the war started...”

“But we were happy! Tell me that you were happy!”

“I... I thought I was happy. But these last three years spent with Jamie showed me what true happiness was. He made me happy, happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“You don’t regret a thing, do you?”

“I could never regret meeting and loving Jamie, Frank.”

He took breath, put his hat back on and prepared to leave.

“I guess it’s the end... I’ll contact a solicitor to begin the procedure... I imagine you’ll be staying in Scotland, right?”

I nodded.

“Goodbye, Claire.”

TBC

 


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fraser ladies moves in with the Wakefields and Claire remembers christening her son...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italics represents flashbacks/memories

To my great surprise, Reverend Wakefield kindly offered Faith and I hospitality upon our release from the infirmary. Saying I had been surprised by his invitation would be the understatement of the century!

“You may stay for as long as you need, dear.”

“I wouldn’t dare to impose, Reverend... Faith and I can find other accommodation.”

“You are not imposing, my dear. If anything we would be the ones imposing on you. You see, Mrs Graham and I aren’t getting any younger and chasing after our wee Roger has become more difficult for us...”

And so here I was, nearly a month later, rocking Faith to sleep near the living room fireplace of Reverend Wakefield’s Rectory, Mrs Graham sipping a cup of tea while Roger was drawing by the coffee table.

“Mistress Claire!” shouted-whispered Roger, running toward me with a sheet of paper. “I made a picture for ye!”

It was three stick figures, obviously one adult with wavy brown hair and two children, one smaller than the other.

“That’s a nice picture, Roger!”

“That’s ye, wee Faith and I in the garden!”

Roger and Faith had quickly taken to each other despite their age difference and the little boy had become my daughter’s protector upon their first meeting.

_“Hi, I’m Roger” he had said, handing her a beautiful stuffed doll._

_Faith had looked at Roger, then at the doll, then at Roger again before turning to me._

_“Go ahead, darling...”_

_“Me Faith Lally” she whispered, taking the doll and hugging her._

_I had smiled before explaining she meant she was Faith of Lallybroch. Then she had asked me a question that shattered my heart._

_“He bwotha like Fewgus?”_

_“Oh, darling... No... Roger is a friend...”_

_“Who’s Fergus?” had asked Roger with the curiosity only child has._

_“Fewgus me bwotha!” had exclaimed Faith. “He nice, he sing, me love Fewgus!”_

“Mistress Claire! Mistress Claire!”

“I’m so sorry, Roger... I was miles away!”

“I put me name on it! See, Roger! But I didnae put me whole name, ‘cause it’s too long.”

“I would imagine that writing Roger Jeremiah Wakefield wouldn’t leave a lot of place for your picture.”

“Ye forgot MacKenzie, Mistress Claire! Me full name is Roger Jeremiah MacKenzie Wakefield. MacKenzie was me father’s name, the one who died when I was a baby.”

“Four names! That’s sure is a lot, Roger, but Faith too has four name. And you know, I knew a little boy who had five names!”

“Really?! Five! That is a lot of name, Mistress Claire! Was it yer Fergus?”

I nodded. “His full name is... was Fergus Alexander Murtagh Beauchamps Fraser.”

“But didnae ye say he was French? That does nae sound very French.”

“That’s because it’s his Scot name. We changed it once we adopted him. Just like your father changed your last name to Wakefield when he adopted you.”

That seemed enough explanation for the little boy who went back to his drawing.

“Fergus Alexander Murtagh Beauchamps Fraser... That’s quite a mouthful for a wee lad.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of my brave little French boy. “His birth name, Claudel, was apparently not manly enough... But it wasn’t until we named Faith that he asked Jamie and I to give him a full official name...”

_“Milord, Milady... I too want a full name, like the petite Milady” he had said once we had chosen our daughter’s full name._

_“A full name, laddie?”_

_“Yes, Milord! Like you, a long one.”_

_Jamie had raised an eyebrow before taking Fergus in his arms and sitting him on his lap._

_“A long name, ye say? Well, what kind of name would ye like?”_

_The little boy had looked pensive before taking a deep breath._

_“If you would agree, Milord, you could name me after you... I know I’m just a poor French orphelin and that you are not mon père, but I would be honoured to bear one of your names... Maybe not your Christian name, you and Milady should keep it for when you have a son.”_

_“But we already have a son, Fergus” I had said, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You are  our son, my love. Maybe not by blood, but we choose you...”_

_Tears started to pool his dark eyes, but my brave little boy fought them._

_“Well me full name is James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Since ye want us to save me Christian name for our second born son, Fergus me lad, we will then bestow ye the Alexander... What do ye think, Sassenach?”_

_“Fergus Alexander sounds marvellous, Jamie.”_

_“But... But Milord, you have a third name... I think I ought to have a third name, don’t you think Milady?”_

_From the gleam in his eyes I could tell Fergus already had an idea._

_“You are right, Fergus, if three given names is good enough for Milord then it’s good enough for you... But what third name could we give you? Do you have an idea?”_

_“Well... You could name me after Monsieur Murtagh... That is if you think he wouldn’t mind...”_

_“Fergus Alexander Murtagh Fraser” I tried, liking how it sounded on my tongue._

_“Fergus Alexander Murtagh BEAUCHAMPS Fraser” stated Jamie. “It’s tradition in me family that the lads be also named after their mam’s families, Sassenach.”_

_“If it’s tradition, Jamie, who am I to change it? So what do you think, Fergus? Do you like it?”_

_“I do, Milady. I will bear those names with grande fierté!”_

_“Just one more thing, lad” said Jamie, sounding very serious._

_The young boy gulped, as if expecting to get reprimanded. “Yes, Milord?”_

_“We have just christened ye as our son and a son does nae call his father and mother Milord and Milady... From now on I expect ye to call us properly as da and ma.”_

_“I could never, Milord! I mean... You really want me to... But I...”_

_“If ye are to be our son, Fergus, ye are to address us properly. Ye are not a servant, ye are our son.”_

_The little boy nervously bit his lip before smiling like a loon._

_“It wouldn’t feel right to call you ma and da, but... could I maybe call you maman and père?” he asked, hopeful._

_Before either Jamie or I could answer him, Faith let out a wail._

_“I think the petite Milady likes it, maman... Bonjour petite Faith, I’m your brother, Fergus...”_

“Ye’re thinking of yer wee lad, aren’t you?”

I took the handkerchief she offered me and wiped away my tears.

“Some nights... I think I can hear him crying out for me... My... My little boy is all alone... And I couldn’t even tell him goodbye...”

“My poor lass...”

“I wake up in the middle of the night and I swear I hear him calling for me...”

_“Maman! Where are you, Maman?”_

“And what about yer lassie?” asked Mrs Graham, changing the subject to spare me the pain of remembering my boy. “Ye never said what was her full name...”

“Faith Claire Hildegarde Fraser... I told you she was born with red hair, but by the time Jamie was released from the Bastille it had turned dark and... He said she looked just like me and needed to be named after her mother...”

“And Hildegarde? Not a common name for a lassie, even in the 18th century...”

“Mother Hildegarde was the nun in charge of L’Hôpital des Anges in Paris... She’s the one who named her Faith and... She’s the reason we are both alive.”

“That’s a nice tribute to her... And what about one ye are carrying? What are ye going to name it?”

“What? How...”

How could she possibly know I was pregnant? I hadn’t gained that much weight and apart from the medical personnel from the Infirmary...

“I’m a mother meself, me dear. I recognized the signs... Was it the reason why yer Jamie sent ye away?”

I nodded. “Yes, he was even the one to tell me I was pregnant in the first place... With the stress of the rebellion I... I hadn’t even realized I was pregnant. He... He made me promise to name the baby after his father, so it’s going to be Brian James Fraser.”

“And if it’s a wee lassie?”

I frowned. I hadn’t thought of the possibility of the baby being a girl...

“Don’t fash, me dear. Ye still have some time to think about it...”

Yes, time... That’s all I had now...

TBC


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Claire 30th birthday and Mrs Graham has a special gift for her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one before I leave for a happy hour with former work colleagues. It’s a very, very short one, almost a continuation of part 5 since it deals with Claire’s feeling regarding Fergus. As usual, let me know what you thought of it!

Summer came and went and there was no hiding my pregnancy anymore. Roger went back to school and I spent my time during Faith’s naps either helping Mrs Graham with the light household chores or reading medical textbook the Infirmary head nurse brought to the rectory. The divorce was finalized by September and Frank sent me the remaining of my inheritance from Uncle Lamb. Faith’s second birthday was bitter sweetly celebrated with cake and presents and soon it was my own 30th birthday. I was now 8 months pregnant and as big as an elephant, at least according to my daughter. I was experiencing things in this pregnancy that I hadn’t had the chance to experienced when I was carrying Faith. The strangest one came one night while I was enjoying a cup of chamomile and a tiny little foot seemed to want to stick out of my huge belly. Tears filled my eyes as I softly touched it, whishing Jamie was here to share this moment with me.

Although I had begged Mrs Graham and the Reverend no to make a fuss out of my birthday, I spent October 20th 1948 being pampered and spoiled. The weather being warm enough, the Reverend, Roger, Faith and I went on a picnic by the Loch before coming back to the rectory to the aroma of a freshly baked chocolate cake.

“Happy birthday, me dear!”

“Mrs Graham, you didn’t have…”

“Come and sit, Mistress Claire” cheerfully said Roger, pulling a chair for me to sit.

“We got you some wee presents as well” announced the Reverend, handing me a wrapped rectangular box.

“But first we eat cake, right father?”

All three adults laughed at Roger excitement for desert. Later that night, after having put the children to bed, the Reverend, Mrs Graham and I sat down for one last nightcap.

“Ladies, not that I am not enjoying your company, but I better head up to bed myself. Good night and my dear Claire, again, happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Reggie. And good night…”

I let out a groan as I felt a swift kick to my kidney. I had thought that Faith had been quite active while I carried her, but it was nothing to this new baby. I must be black and blue from the inside from all the kicks I received.

“The bairn is restless tonight?”

I nodded. “Doctor Beaton thinks it’s a good sign…”

“Aye, a very good sign indeed! Does he foresee any complication for the delivery?”

“He doesn’t think so. This pregnancy is very different from my first one… Compared to Faith’s, it is the ideal pregnancy. I practically didn’t suffer from any morning sickness…”

“Then ye are one of the few lucky one! Oh, before I forgot, I got ye a wee something…”

“Mrs Graham, you didn’t have to! You have already done so much…”

“Don’t fash, dear. Here take this.”

I frowned as she handed me a folder.

“What is it?”

“This is the gift of peace of mind. When ye told me the name of yer wee laddie, it felt familiar, but it wasn’t ‘till the Reverend received a batch of books from Edinburgh that I made the connection.”

I opened the folder and gaped at the paper held in it. It was a copy of a very old trade card for a printer and book seller named F.A.M.B. Fraser in Edinburgh.

“My Fergus?”

“Aye, me friend Eliza works at the County archives and found this for ye. Yer lad started as a printer and book seller. It’s now called Fraser Press and it is one of the country most prominent publishing houses. Still belongs to yer lad’s descendants.”

My Fergus had survived and thrived… He had survived and thrived without neither Jamie nor I… His professional success must mean that Jenny and Ian had taken care of him after… My little boy…

“If ye want I can ask Eliza for more information like who he married, when he passed… Ye could even visit in Edinburgh if ye want. The Reverend has his entry…”

“No… Knowing he lived through adulthood is enough knowledge for me. I… I couldn’t bear to learn the date of his death or anything else… This and what you just reported tells me he lived the life Jamie and I had hoped for him.”

I cried, cried tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of pride… My little boy lived and seemed to have made a good life for himself. What else could a parent hope for?

“Thank you, Mrs Graham… You can’t imagine what it means to me to know that my little boy…”

I carefully put the card back in the folder, holding it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. And honestly, it truly was. That card was the proof that my boy had lived. That card was the proof that Faith’s brother who had patiently taught her French comptines had lived.

I went to bed that night with a huge weight lifted off my chest. I still felt guilty of having left my Fergus behind, not having said goodbye… The baby must have felt my conflicted feelings for it kicked me swiftly.

“No need to beat your poor mother, little one…” I whispered. “Mama is only thinking about your brother, how much he would have loved you…”

And so, up until sleep claimed me, I told the baby all about its older brother. It would know everything about this older sibling who wouldn’t get to grow up alongside him or her.

TBC


	7. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been a long time, but I’ve just came back from the trip of my lifetime AKA my vacation in Scotland! So that’s my excuse for the lateness in giving you this new chapter. So without further ado, enjoy!

The first contractions hit me as I was getting ready for bed on the night of November 22nd.  I had expected this labour to be as quick and swift as Faith’s had been, but by 7AM my water still hadn’t broke and the contractions were getting stronger and closer. I waited until Mrs Graham came in the morning before asking the Reverend to drive me to the Infirmary.

I barely remembered Faith’s birth, apart from the pain and then it was all washed away by the joy of being handed my newborn child by Mother Hildegarde. I expected this labour to be as hard and painful as my first one and before they showed me to my room I said a silent prayer for my safety and my unborn child’s.

And painful it was... For nearly 5 hours I pushed, for nearly 5 hours I cursed the day I allowed Jamie Fraser to touch me... I was nearly at the end of my rope, completely exhausted when, just after 12:15, I was finally delivered of my pain to utter quietness.

“Is he alright?” I asked. “Tell me, is my son alright? Why isn’t he crying?”

“It’s nae a lad, Miss Beauchamps, but a wee lassie!” said the nurse before disappearing to a corner of the room with my baby.

Another daughter!

“But why isn’t she crying?!”

“She’s born with the caul, Miss Beauchamps” explained Doctor Beaton.

Second later I let out a sigh at the loud sound of my angry newborn daughter.

“They say that being born with the caul is a good omen, Miss Beauchamps” said the nurse as she handed me my swaddled daughter. “Here’s yer wee beauty...”

And beautiful she was, just like her older sister. A tuff of red hair covered her tiny head and I hoped that unlike Faith it would stay that colour. I counted each and every one of her fingers and toes, studied her featured... Perfect, she was perfect. Jamie and I had done it again; we had created once more the most perfect little creature the world had ever seen.

“I promise to tell you everything about your father, little one. About the sacrifices he made so you could live...”

Later that evening, Mrs Graham brought a pyjama clad Faith to meet her new sibling.

“Mama?” she asked, big fat tears staining her face.

“The poor wee lamb spent the day crying for ye, me dear.”

“Crying? Darling, why...”

“Mama gone! Mama gone like Da and Fewgus!”

“Oh, my darling... Mama isn’t gone. Look, come and meet your little sister!”

She just shook her head vehemently. “Baby not lilla sistaw. Me Fewgus’ lilla sistaw!”

“Oh, Faith... Come sit by Mama...”

Mrs Graham helped her up to the bed and my darling little girl pouted never looking me in the eyes.

“Look at Mama, Faith... Good. You will always be Fergus’ little sister, Faith. That’s not going to change, but you are also Brianna’s big sister now just like Fergus is your big brother. Do you remember what Fergus did with you?”

She took a deep breath, her little body shaking as she fought a sob.

“Fewgus nice, he sang, he played, he taught...”

“Yes, Fergus was nice to you, he sang you comptines, he played with you and he taught you a lot of things...”

I was hit back by memories of Fergus helping Faith learn to walk in the dining room of Lallybroch, of him teaching her her first words – mama and da.

“And now you’ll have to do all that for Brianna because you are her big sister.”

“Me Bweenana’s big sistaw?”

I smiled. Brianna’s name would prove to be quite a challenge to pronounce for Faith.

“Yes, you are Brianna’s big sister...”

Her little hand stroke Brianna’s soft cheek before kissing her sister’s tiny forehead.

“Mine! My baby, wight Mama?”

I smiled. In that moment she was so like her father, taking ownership of the people under her care.

“Yes, darling. Brianna is your baby sister.”

She smiled back before softly humming one of the many comptines Fergus taught her.

A week later, Brianna Ellen Fiona Fraser was christened at St Mary’s Catholic Church with the Reverend and Mrs Graham acting as her godparents. Luckily the parish’ priest was a friend of the Reverend who didn’t mind christening the child of an unwed divorcée whose godparents were two Presbyterians. His open mindedness didn’t make me miss Father Bain one bit.

Brianna proved to be, just like her sister, an easy baby – except for when she was hungry then all hell broke loose! It was in those moments that I missed Jamie... He was a very hands on father, had been with both Faith and Fergus, getting up in the middle of the night to tend to our colicky daughter or our frightened little boy when he had been plagued with night terrors following his encounter with Black Jack Randall. It was a shame Brianna wouldn’t get to experience the joy of having her father putting her to sleep, softly talking in Gàidhlig, telling her the tales of Frasers past... Would he had called her his _mo beag nighean ruadh_ – his little red haired lass, as he had called Faith his _mo beag nighean donn_ – his little brown haired lass?

And so here we were, a month after Brianna’s birth. The Reverend, Mrs Graham and Roger had left earlier for the parish’s Nativity Play’s rehearsal where Roger was going to play one of the shepherds. Faith was playing in one of the corner of the living room with her new baby doll and little crib – a birthday present from the Reverend to prepare her for her new role as a big sister. I had just finished feeding Brianna who was in a milk coma when the doorbell rang. I frowned since we weren’t expecting any visitors... Faith forgot all about her doll and ran to the door.

“Faith Fraser! What have I told you about running in the house?”

She pouted, her little teeth biting into her lower lip. “No running...”

“Yes, no running, and you do not answer the door without mama. Here, keep an eye on your sister while I go see who’s at the door...”

I put Brianna in her bassinet under the careful watch of her older sister and went to open the front door.

“Claire?!”

For a second I forgot to breath and simply stared at him.

“Frank... What... What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question...”

I didn’t like his tone one bit.

“I live here, Frank! You didn’t leave me much of a choice since you didn’t release my inheritance from Uncle Lamb until after the divorce was pronounced. The Reverend was kind enough to open his door to me...”

I knew I was hard on him, but so had he been with me. If the Reverend hadn’t helped Faith and I after our release from the Infirmary, I don’t know what I would have done...

“So, you now know the reason why I’m here... What about you, Frank? Reggie never said anything about you coming here or I would have made sure not to be here...”

“He doesn’t know, I... I spent the last three Christmases with him so I...”

I simply nodded, understanding. I had forgotten how Frank was such a creature of habits.

“The Reverend, Roger and Mrs Graham are at the church... It’s the Nativity Play’s rehearsal, but they should be back shortly. Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

Before he could answer I felt two arms circle my legs from behind. I looked down and Faith was peeking at our visitor.

“Me Faith Fwasew” she said shyly. “Who you?”

Frank gulped, uncomfortable. He had never felt at ease around children.

“That’s Mr Randall, darling. He’s mama’s...”

How could I explain our former relationship to my 2 years old?

“He’s mama’s friend. Can you say hello?”

She nodded. “Hi.”

An awkward silence settled between the three of us that was interrupted by the soft meowling of Brianna letting me know she was done with her nap.

“Excuse me...”

Before I could even reach the bassinet, Faith was already putting the pacifier back into her sister’s mouth and was softly patting her tummy, singing for her.

“Fwère Jacques, Fwères Jacques, dowmez-vous? Dowmez-vous? Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Ding, dang, dong… “

Having put her baby sister back to sleep, my big girl looked up at me proudly.

“Me good sistaw, wight mama?”

“Yes, darling. You are a very good sister.”

I took a deep breath and turned to face Frank. Once upon a time I had been an expert at deciphering his many expressions, but tonight... Tonight I couldn’t tell.

“You... You were...”

“I was pregnant? Yes. Brianna was born a month ago.”

“You should have told me! I would have...”

“You would have what, Frank? You would have given me my inheritance from Uncle Lamb sooner? Why would you have done that? You already knew I had a child to care for, but that didn’t stop you from keeping it from me. And I didn’t tell you because it didn’t concern you!”

“Didn’t concern me?! Claire you are my wife!”

“Was your wife, Frank!”

I regretted my outburst almost immediately when both Faith and Brianna burst in tears. I quickly grabbed both daughters in my arms, soothing them when the door opened and Roger came barrelling in the living room.

“Mistress Claire! Father told us the most amazing story ‘bout the Dun Bonnet!”

“Claire, whose car is it...” started the Reverend before he spotted our visitor. “Frank... We were nae expecting ye.”

“Yes... I can see that...”

I took this as my cue to retire for the night. I never wanted to come in between the Reverend and Frank, to force Reggie to choose between his friendship with Frank and me.

“Mistress Claire, dinnae ye want to hear the story of the Dun Bonnet?” asked Roger, completely unaware of the tension between the adults.

“How about you tell me the story another day? It’s getting late and we have a big day tomorrow. Faith, Brianna and I need to be well rested if we want to watch you in the Nativity play.”

“Ye are really going to come? Even if ye are nae a Presbyterian?”

“Of course, Roger! We wouldn’t miss your big debut! We will be in the front row, won’t we Faith?”

“Aye! Me an Bweenana clap fo’ Rwogaw!”

I settled Brianna in the crook of my arms and took Faith tiny hands in mine and made my way to the stairs before being stopped by the Reverend.

“Dear, I can ask him to find other lodging if it makes ye uncomfortable...”

“Don’t... If someone should find other lodging it would be me.”

“Claire...”

I smiled. “But I know you would never allow it and neither would Mrs Graham. Let him stay here for the holiday. He was your friend before I was yours...”

“You ken that’s nae how... Frank might be me friend, but ye and yer bairns are family to me and Roger!”

I felt tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

“And so are you, my dear Reggie. Goodnight...”

TBC


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tale of the Dun Bonnet is told and Claire make some discovery...

Roger’s theatrical debut ended up being a grand success. It seemed like he caught the acting bug and was already planning his next performance.

“Next year, I want to be one of the Wise Men. And Faith could be one of the angels! Father, do ye think Faith could be in the Nativity Play? Even if she’s not a Presbyterian?”

The Reverend was sitting in front of the fireplace, cradling a now slumbering Brianna.

“Well since she is family to us, I don’t see why she couldn’t take part.”

The answer seemed to be enough for the young boy. We were all sitting in the large living room of the rectory having just came back home. Roger sitting on the floor while Faith and I were curled on the settee, my daughter wrapped in the Fraser plaid that had travelled with us through the Stones, tucking Sawny close to her cheek. Frank was seated opposite to the Reverend in one of the plush armchair, nursing a glass of Scotch.

We had come to some sort of truce, Frank and I. We weren’t ignoring each other, but the less we interacted with each other, the better.

“Father, can ye tell us a story?”

“And which story would ye like to hear, son? A Visit From St. Nicholas, maybe? Or a chapter from A Christmas Carol?”

“Ye promised to tell Mistress Claire the story of the Dun Bonnet, father!”

“Ye are right, Roger, I did... So... Our story begins before the Rising of ’45. The Dun Bonnet was a fair and much loved Highlander Laird. Nae only was he loved by his kinsmen, but he loved them in return and cared for them. While many of his fellow Lairds were hoping for the return of a Stuart on the throne, the Dun Bonnet only wanted the wellbeing of his people. He never swore allegiance to either the House of Stuart or the House of Hanover.”

I closed my eyes and suddenly I was back 200 years ago... I had spent many nights sitting just like this, listening to glorious stories of the past...

“One day, the Dun Bonnet received a vision. A vision of a failed Rising, of his kinsmen dead on the moor of Culloden in April of 1746... He knew of several Lairds collecting money for the restoration of the Stuarts, for the Bonnie Prince, and in that moment he knew that such an enterprise would be doomed. His vision had also shown him the aftermath of it all, the Highland Clearances, the wiping of the Highland culture. And so he did his best to prevent it. Unfortunately his efforts were for naught and the Bonnie Prince was able to collect enough to fund his rebellion. Any other men would have given hope, but not the Dun Bonnet. His vision had told him that the Rising would end at Culloden Moor and so he was determined to stop it before that and with as little casualty as possible. In order to do so he did something he had never done before, he swore allegiance. He swore allegiance to the House of Hanover and became a spy for them. He infiltrated the Bonnie Prince’s entourage, gained his trust and friendship, became one of his most trusted advisors, all the while trying to stop him and reporting everything to the English. But April 16th 1746 came and the Dun Bonnet had to admit that he had failed to stop the Bonnie Prince’s madness. He saved as many of his men as he could, but was severely wounded as they escaped the butchery. His kinsmen brought him back to his estate, to his family, wanting him to be surrounded by his loved one before he met his Maker. But...”

“But he didnae die, right father?”

The Reverend nodded. “He didnae die. But he had been labelled a traitor by the English. His family, who had kent of his arrangement with them to spy on the Bonnie Prince, tried to get his name cleared of the charge, but they had no proof of it. The officer who had served as his contact had been one of the few English casualties and with him all proofs of the Dun Bonnet’s actions were lost.”

The story seemed so familiar. Like I had heard it before... No, I hadn’t heard it, I had lived it, for heaven’s sake! It was Jamie’s story, albeit with some changes, but weren’t all legend changed from the original story?

“What happened to him?” I asked in a whisper. “Did he escape Scotland? Did he go into hiding?”

“Aye, his kinsmen hid him in a cave, protected him from the Redcoats who were wandering the Highlands in the following years. Whenever he left his cave, he would wear a bonnet on his head, to hide his identity, thus the name the Dun Bonnet.”

“But were they able to prove his innocence? Did he spend the rest of his days hiding away in a cave?”

I had to know! If somehow Jamie had survived, if there was a chance...

“The Dun Bonnet had quite the Lady wife. She went all the way to London and gained an audience with none other than the Duke of Cumberland. When she finally came back to Scotland it was with a letter from the Duke himself proclaiming her husband’s innocence and his efforts to stop the Bonnie Prince.”

“And they lived happily ever after, right father?”

“I wouldn’t say happily ever after, Roger. It is nae a fairy tale. But yes, the Dun Bonnet, his Lady wife and his kinsmen were able to live in peace once again.”

I quickly wiped away the tears I had shed, hoping neither the Reverend, Roger or – God help me – Frank had seen them.

“Do we know the name of this Dun Bonnet? To which clan he belonged?”

“They don’t know his name because the Dun Bonnet’s tale is just that, a tale” stated Frank with a sigh. “Reggie, you’ve been searching this nameless Laird for years and you haven’t found anything! If he had existed don’t you think his family, his clan, would have boasted about it?”

“The Scots may be boastful sometime, but they protect their own” I said. “I think they were boasting enough. I mean, if the Dun Bonnet’s story has survive more than two hundred years...”

“And how would you know that?” he asked.

“I’ve spent nearly three years surrounded by the most boastful bunch of Scots you could ever meet, Frank. I know.”

Memories of Angus and Rupert, poor Angus and poor Rupert... Dead for what? For the impossible dream of a foolish, egotistical coward?

Much later, when Roger, Faith and Brianna were put to bed, I decided to question the Reverend more about this Dun Bonnet and his research to uncover his identity.

“You’ve been researching this Dun Bonnet for how many years, Reggie?”

“Nearly all me life, Claire!”

“Then how come it’s the first time I hear about it?”

He smiled. “Me search is more a hobby... Before Roger came to live here, all my spare times were spent searching for the Dun Bonnet.”

“Well... I’m in need of a hobby myself” I said. “I thought of going back to nursing, but with a newborn it might not be the best idea. And Mrs Graham told me about a nice nursery school nearby... I know that Faith is still a little young, but you and I both know that she’s quite ahead for her age. In the meantime I could maybe help you with your research...”

“Ye would? That would be amazing, me dear Claire! A friend of mine down at the National Archives has been sending copies of documents pertaining to the aftermath of the Rising... Honestly there are so many of them! The Scottish lawyers of this era seemed to have come with a rather efficient way to stall things up. They petitioned the government for pretty much everything!”

“All right, then. How about we start our search on Boxing Day?”

His only answer was to kiss my cheek and squeeze my hand.

“Good night, Reggie...”

I was left alone in the living room of the rectory. My thoughts drifted back to Jamie... My Jamie...

“I will find you, Jamie... And we will get back to you, I promise.”

TBC


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last here’s Part 9 of Dans un autre monde. I am so sorry for the delay in giving this new chapter, but I received some life changing news in the last couple of months. My mother who has been the epitome of health her whole life was diagnosed with breast cancer. Being as close as I am to her it obviously turned my world upside down. She is currently going through chemo and hopefully will get through this. But enough with that (or I’m gonna start crying again), I think you’ve been waiting long enough, right?

The awkwardness of that first Christmas at the rectory would be the last of my interaction with Frank, at least face to face. He quickly left Inverness before New Year and by April the Reverend told me he had moved to America, having been offered a position at Harvard in their History Department.

If I thought that knowing what I was looking for would make the search easier, I was greatly mistaken. The Reverend hadn’t been jesting when he said the Scottish lawyers of the era had petitioned for everything and anything. It was six months into my inquest that I realized how unhealthy it was to spend all my spare moments searching through endless papers. And so with the help of Mrs Graham and her friend Aileen I took a part time position as a triage nurse at the new A&E at the Infirmary. So during my shifts either Mrs Graham or her daughter-in-law would watch over Brianna while Faith was enrolled at the nearby nursery school. I had expected my eldest daughter to suffer from separation anxiety and throw one of her famous Fraser temper tantrum when I dropped her off on her first day, but she simply hugged me and went running to the other children, barely turning back to say “bye mama”. I spent several hours warily wandering the nearby streets pushing Brianna’s pram until it was time to pick Faith up. And instead of a teary daughter waiting for me at the end of the day, I was met by a cheerful one.

“Mama! Me made fwiends!”

By Brianna’s first birthday, I was beginning to think it would take twenty years before I could find proof that Jamie was the Dun Bonnet. That is until a couple of weeks before Christmas, when we received a new batch of documents from the Reverend’s friend at the National Archives. For the first time since I started helping the Reverend with his search I found several names I recognized and knew.

It was a document dating from 1747 regarding the Oath to the King taken by a young Laird, barely 12 years of age, a young Laird named Hamish MacKenzie. The document had been witnessed by his mother, Letitia MacKenzie, and Edward Gowan, a lawyer from Edinburgh. Ned... Of course, Ned was the key to this search! Any documents I would have gathered to exonerate Jamie would have to be presented to the authorities by a lawyer. And there was only one lawyer I trusted back in the 18th century, Ned Gowan.

“Reggie, I think I might have a lead...”

“A lead, ye say?”

“You said the Dun Bonnet was a Highlander Laird, right?”

He nodded, setting his cup of tea on a nearby table that wasn’t nearly collapsing under the weight of several books.

“Look at this document, it’s the Oath to the King taken by the young Laird of Clan MacKenzie upon his twelfth birthday. See the name of the witness, Edward Gowan? His name comes back in several other documents pertaining to different other Highlands Clans. From what I gathered this Mister Gowan was a lawyer settled in Edinburgh, but who worked mainly as some sort of traveling solicitor. He seemed to have been highly regarded throughout the Highlands...”

He took the document, careful even if it was a copy.

“Gowan, ye say? Yes... I remember seeing that name more than once... Ye really think he might be the key to our search?”

“I think so... Do you think your friend at the Archives could send us every document they might have connected to this Mister Gowan?”

He frowned. “It might take a while, me dear...”

And a while it took. Winter made way to spring and by midsummer we still hadn’t received anything from London. By the end of July I decided to use my vacation times from the hospital and treat the girls to a short trip. We spent a couple of days on the beaches of Aberdeen and, upon our return to Inverness, were welcome by several boxes filling the living room of the rectory.

“Claire! At last, ye are here! They’re here, me dear!”

“The documents from the Archives? Reggie, you should have phoned me!”

“Nonsense, me dear! Ye and yer girls needed that short holiday.”

And so began the real search. Mrs Graham and her daughter-in-law were kind enough to entertain Roger, Faith and Brianna while the Reverend and I spent all our spare time buried in 200 years old paperwork.

It was strange, searching those papers and finding the names of people I knew, people I had met. Each time I would get emotional, fighting tears that were begging to be shed. But there were also times where I was nearly gleeful at the suffering of people I hated, people who had made my life a living hell. I have no shame to say I was glad when I found the Order of Execution of Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat.

The breakthrough in the search came one Saturday in August. Mrs Graham was busying herself in the kitchen, preparing for the Parish annual baking sale, while the Reverend was working on his sermon in his study. Mrs Graham-the-younger, the senior Mrs Graham’s daughter-in-law, had taken Roger and the girls for a picnic in the countryside, allowing me some time to go through the ton of paperwork.

At first glance it was yet again another official looking document. At first glance... I nearly set it aside until I realized it was written in French.

“ _Nous, Louis, par la grâce de Dieu, roi de France et de Navarre…_ ”

I couldn’t believe what I was reading and it took me a while to fully translate it. And once I did I knew that I had found part of the proof I was looking for.

“ _We, Louis, by the grace of God, king of France and Navarre, declare that on the fifth day of December in the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and forty-four, after having negotiated with an emissary of his Majesty King George of Great Britain, We delivered to James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird of Broch Tuarach of Scotland, a full pardon from the British authority. Thus Laird Broch Tuarach took leave from Us and from the Kingdom of France in order to return to his estate..._ ”

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! This proved that Jamie couldn’t have signed Prince Charles list of Highland Lairds supporters and that his signature had been forged! But this must not be all... There must be more... And so I went through the whole box and at the very bottom of it laid two pieces of papers that left me breathless and teary eyed. The first was a letter from the Duke of Cumberland to William Grant, Lord Advocate of Scotland.

_“... It has come to our attention that James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird of Broch Tuarach in Scotland, has been branded a traitor to the Crown and has been since wanted by the authorities to answer for his supposed crimes during the failed rebellion... Laird Broch Tuarach approached Fort William’s garrison commander, Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, Esq., in the early months of Seventeen Hundred and Forty-Four with the intention of infiltrating the Jacobite movement... Laird Broch Tuarach gained access to Charles Edward Stuart while sojourning in France... Returned to Scotland in the early days of Seventeen Hundred and Forty-Five... Took command under Charles Edward Stuart while reporting the Jacobites’ advances to Captain Randall who acted as his liaison... Captain Randall perished at the Battle of Culloden... Laird Broch Tuarach survived... We command that the good name of Laird Broch Tuarach be reinstate and that all his lands and holdings be returned to him...”_

The second was a copy of an official proclamation probably sent to all Scottish garrisons regarding the innocence of one James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird Broch Tuarach...

I don’t know how long I spent staring at those documents... Time seemed to freeze as I felt my vision blurred by unshed tears.

“Claire?”

I jumped, the Reverend and Mrs Graham were standing in front of me, worried looks plastered on their faces.

“Claire... Are ye alright, me dear? See, Mrs Graham, I told ye she’s not responding...”

“Reverend, why don’t ye go and get us something to drink. I think our Claire could really use a dram of scotch.”

The Reverend frowned before sighing and heading to his study to get the scotch.

“Claire, dear, ye look as if someone walked on yer grave!”

“I... I found him, Mrs Graham. I found the Dun Bonnet and...”

“Ye found him? Well, why didnae ye tell the Reverend? He’ll be the happiest man on...”

“The Dun Bonnet is Jamie, Mrs Graham!”

“What... But... How...”

I told her about my suspicions once I heard the legend of the Dun Bonnet, how it felt as if Reggie was telling Jamie’s story.

“And now I have proofs! Proofs that not only the Dun Bonnet is real, but that it’s Jamie! Jamie survived, Mrs Graham, and according to the legend...”

“According to the legend, his lady wife is the one who cleared his name... Claire... Ye have to tell the Reverend, ye have to tell him everything! How ye went through the Stones, how ye found yerself in the past...”

“Reggie won’t believe me...”

“What will I won’t believe?” asked the Reverend, holding a decanter and three glasses.

I took a deep breath, thinking about how I could probably tell the Reverend...

“Reggie... Do you know the song The Woman of Balnain?”

“Aye, it is an old folk song... About a woman taken by the fairies, I think, and traveled to a faraway land to live among strangers...”

Mrs Graham squeezed my hand. “Go ahead, Claire. Tell him.”

“What if I told you that I was the woman of Balnain... Back in 1945, I went to Craigh na Dun and upon touching the largest Stone I was transported to 1743. I lived among strangers, married one of them, fell in love with him, bear his daughter...”

I couldn’t decipher his expression. Did he think me mad?

“You don’t believe me...”

“What ye are telling me, Claire... Well, it is quite a tale... Fairy hill, time traveling through the Stones... Ye are right to think anybody wouldn’t believe ye, but I’m nae anybody, me dear. I’m a Scot. I was raised with stories of fairies and people disappearing, of the magic surrounding Craigh na Dun, though most of me life I thought them to be old wives’ tales. But I do believe ye, me dear Claire.”

I bursted in tears and threw myself at him, hugging him.

“Thank you, Reggie. Thank you for believing me!”

“Ye don’t need to thank me... Although ye could have told me sooner, me dear. Two years is a long time to keep such a secret and from what I can see ye had already told Mrs Graham... I feel quite left off...”

I laughed through my tears.

“Now... Will ye tell me what got ye so emotional earlier? I ken you didnae tell me yer secret for nothing...”

I carefully handed him the letter from King Louis, the one from the Duke of Cumberland and the proclamation.

“I found the Dun Bonnet, Reggie.”

“Ye... ye did?! Claire, it’s...”

He swiftly read the documents and for a moment he looked like a giddy schoolboy.

“That name... James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser... Yer lassies’ father?”

I nodded, not trusting my own voice.

“Will ye tell me yer story, Claire? Yer whole story, from the beginning?”

“I’ll leave ye two to it” said Mrs Graham with a smile. “I’ve already heard it and I still have some baking to do...”

And so I told the Reverend everything, starting with my first encounter with Jack Randall and subsequent saving by Murtagh. He didn’t stop me once to ask questions, but I could feel he was enthralled by my tale. For an avid historian like him, especially one interested by the Jacobites era, this was heaven for him. I was coming to the end of my story, how Jamie had gotten me and Faith to Craigh na Dun when the entrance door came bursting open and the sound of Faith, Brianna and Roger’s crying filled the Rectory.

“Mama!” shouted my youngest.

“Bree, darling, what’s the matter?”

“Roger, lad, why are ye all crying?”

At the grand old age of 9, Roger wasn’t known to cry for nothing, so something must have happened. Before the sweet lad could answer, the younger Mrs Graham came in, carrying her own daughter Fiona.

“Reverend, Miss Beauchamp, I think yer lad and lassies might have some ear infection... We were having a picnic, then they started complaining about their ears...”

“Mama, they scweamed!” sobbed Faith. “They were so loud, mama!”

I frowned. “What was so loud? Roger, what is she talking about?”

“The sound, auntie Claire, the sound was awful!”

Sound? Screams?

“Where did you say you went on your picnic?”

“Just outside the city, Miss Beauchamp. Near this hill, Craigh na Dun.”

TBC


End file.
